


Wherever You Find Love (It Feels Like Christmas)

by phantomreviewer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Christmas, Disabled Character, F/M, First Kiss, Getting Together, Lumberjacks, M/M, Motorbikes, Multi, Nude Photos, Photography, Skinny Dipping, Trans Male Character, charity calendar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomreviewer/pseuds/phantomreviewer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“All people participating will be on an equal footing. We will neither overtly sexualise nor shame the human body. These photos will not be sexual, instead amusing and artistic nudes.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Oh yes, for this is art for art’s sake.”</i>
</p>
<p>Les Amis (and friends) plan a nude calendar to raise funds and bail money. Courfeyrac is delighted, Combeferre is surprisingly on board and Cosette has friends in artistic places. Involving skinny dipping, fake snow and boxing gloves. And it all accumulates at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever You Find Love (It Feels Like Christmas)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BreathingSpace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreathingSpace/gifts), [herman_the_moth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/herman_the_moth/gifts).



> This is for Annabel & Karol - both of whom own exclusive, never seen before or since, signed copies, what can I say, I give cheap Christmas presents - for respectively buying me, and receiving from me, the infamous calendar.
> 
> Title from the only Christmas film that matters, _The Muppet's Christmas Carol._
> 
> (Spot the _Love Actually_ reference...)

Unsurprisingly it is Courfeyrac’s idea. 

What is surprising is that Combeferre looks up from where he’s been doodling along the margins of the agenda in front of him – hieroglyphics, from what Enjolras can see from the front of the room – and nods thoughtfully.

“I’m just saying that it really could work. Looking at our advantages here, we’re a group with a high percentage of attractive, if not conventionally attractive members, all over the age of consent, a mix of genders. We’ve got a message that we need to spread to a wider audience, and although we need to raise money, we’ve certainly got the capital for the initial expense. A nude calendar could work for us.”

Enjolras can feel his face contort, and from Grantaire’s laugh from the back of the room it’s not gone unnoticed.

“You know, I was only joking.” Even though Courfeyrac is doing a good impression of being innocent and sweet – even fluttering his eyelashes as he looks between Combeferre to Enjolras – his grin gives him away. Now that he has Combeferre onside, almost anything is possible.

The quiet clicking coming from the corner where Feuilly has his ancient laptop plugged into the mains permeates the room, and makes it clear that this is all on the record. The discussion is saved into the minutes as it continues, and luckily they’d reached the end of the planned agenda, as what had been an idle idea on Courfeyrac’s part becomes a group discussion, and finally, finally a formulated plan.

Both Éponine and Enjolras object to the idea of the calendar as a pin-up affair, as being something which could promote unwilling sexual objectification. The conversation then circles onto the topic of body shaming and promoting positive body image and a middle ground is agreed upon.

Participation will not be mandatory, with no judgement placed on those who don’t want to take part. Musichetta, Cosette and Joly had been adamant about this, in their own way. While the majority of the room are comfortable participating, there are those who are unsure, unavailable or absent.  Joly tapped the side of his chair with his cane, pointing out his discomfort at having people other than Bossuet or Musichetta seeing his body. Even though he makes light of it, even Enjolras can sense the note of unease in his laugh, and sees Grantaire squeeze his shoulder briskly before settling back into his chair.

An hour after the idea was first floated they appear to have put together a mission statement for their political activist awareness raising nude calendar.

“All people participating will be on an equal footing. We will neither overtly sexualise nor shame the human body. These photos will not be sexual, instead amusing and artistic nudes.”

There is a bubble of laughter after Feuilly reads the agreed statement, and even Enjolras’ lips twitch. There is much to be said for unbridled enthusiasm, and he cannot doubt the hearts or opinions of his friends.

“Oh yes, for this is art for art’s sake,” crows Grantaire, and the scowl that Enjolras throws him is as much for traditions sake as it is out of legitimate annoyance.

Once they’ve agreed to proceed, thoughts have to turn to the technicalities of production.

Cosette has been texting throughout the meeting. She’s been paying attention and making relevant contributions to the discussion, so Enjolras had only tutted in her vague direction, especially as he’d assumed that she was updating Marius on what he was missing. Now she looked up grinning. It transpires that she too has been working, as well as informing Marius. She has friends in the art department who might be interested in helping.

Feuilly offered to help to make any sets or props that were necessary, and keeps his chin up and shoulder’s squared when he said that he’d require payment. Grantaire also offered his services for the sheer enjoyment of seeing them all flounder- which is his unsubtle way to pass on his payment to Feuilly. While everyone, including Feuilly knows it, no one comments.

Combeferre, who has pulled out his tablet to check Les Amis’ budget, as treasurer, is sure that they can stretch to that.

Cosette’s phone chimes out bird song.

“One of my friend’s will do the photography for free, as long as she can use the photos in her portfolio. She doesn’t mind photographing nudes, and she’s LGTBQ friendly. She’s free most evenings, whenever we decide to do this so that shouldn’t be a problem. Her name’s Toussaint, and she’s a mature student on my course. She’s quite shy, with a slight stutter, so be nice.”

That last remark is pointed towards Courfeyrac, who pouts.

The meeting ends on a remarkably positive note and on the e-mail with the minutes there is a sign-up sheet for people willing to participate. Over the next few meetings, after the official business has been dealt with, arguments made and papers burnt, there are  ideas thrown around for themes and poses, and it makes for a nice change at to the end of meetings for there to be no immediate rush away, and instead to have laughter and alcohol and friendship.

After promises of taste have been reassured, and themes and scenarios negotiated, an agreement has been reached. Part of Enjolras is looking forward to it, if he thinks of it as another way of working for the cause, and he can’t deny that there’s been a lot more enjoyment for this scheme than there was in the planning of the demo march they’d helped to host the year before.

The terms that have been put forward are agreed to be all easily; Joly will remained clothed – although a little camera play and trickery can be used to suggest otherwise, Musichetta only photographed from behind unless her front is covered, no one will see Marius’ chest scars in photographs, and there won’t be a massive audience when the photographs are being taken, just the photographer, someone helping her out, those being photographed and anyone specifically that they want in there.

Bahorel’s garage has been volunteered, emptied, cleared and readied, and before they really know it, they’re getting started.

Feuilly and Grantaire have provided a mass of props and backgrounds, and no one can work out how they’ve found the time, since Feuilly works about six jobs, while Grantaire always seems to be _somewhere_ whether he’s paid for it or not.

Toussaint is small, clutching her camera and tripod. But she smiles at them, sweeping her greying hair from her eyes, and despite her shyness she seems delighted by both the opportunity and Les Amis themselves. Combeferre tries to offer her payment, but she laughs him off, refusing to take money from ‘the nice people, trying to do their bit for the world.’

A couple of tables and Bahorel’s bathroom mirror are relocated to make a dressing table. It transpires that Musichetta and Jehan are both killer at make-up, while Grantaire alongside Cosette is a dab hand at hair design. They make a motley crew, standing outside Bahorel’s door once hair and make-up have been applied, and everyone not shooting has been scurried out of sight for the robes to come off.

They are only doing two group scenes, it’s just too complicated to locate and find the time for all of them to be together. There is the front cover and one of the summer month shoots.

The summer shoot is their only photo taken on location, in the middle of the night, and with only a little bit of breaking and entering. Enjolras would curse who ever had the idea to have a skinny dipping inspired scene, but it was probably Courfeyrac – Courfeyrac had most of the wilder ideas, almost as though he’d been planning this for some time – and Enjolras can so rarely stay cross at Courfeyrac, it comes of being one of his oldest friends.

They look ridiculous as they strip off, revealing bikinis and speedos and in Bahorel’s case a rubber inflatable ring around his waist. They all shiver in the night air, Enjolras can feel the hairs rise up on his arms, and can see the gooseflesh of Grantaire next to him.  Toussaint gives the countdown, and after only one false start – no one wants to fling themselves into a cold lake, even if it is for a good cause – they all seize hands and charge in. The freezing shock and stunning laughter soon turns into a water fight, and Joly laughs at them safe and dry from the bank, as Toussaint keeps flashing photos of them.

Once they free themselves from the icy clutches of the water and hastily pat themselves down until they can pull on their clothes, their spirits have been damped somewhat, suddenly cold and seeking sleep. It doesn’t mean anything that Grantaire drops his own jacket over Enjolras’ quivering shoulders before he walks off, promising to see them at their next midnight rendezvous.

All manner of props emerge over the course of the two weeks that they’ve dedicated for shooting. Éponine had said something of making a deal with her part-time boyfriend, and suddenly there are three motorbikes being wheeled into the garage that had been Bahorel’s gym, but has been borrowed to be a studio. The three girls have chosen February, and are keeping their scene quiet.

The pile of used props grows; there are French flags and boxing gloves, and an actual tree-stump. Someone mentioned something about lumberjacks; it had come up in one of the planning meetings. And Enjolras doesn’t know how or why Combeferre managed to locate an axe, but he walks with an actual spring in his step for the few days after his particular shoot.

Enjolras notes, that if nothing else comes from this, his friends are becoming more confident.

Enjolras isn’t sure he’s comfortable seeing this much of his friends, he’s seen plenty of them naked before, but that had always been awkward, in the middle of the night crossing paths in halls, or that one time, walking in on them having sex, never like this, never so casual.

His own scene is a quiet affair. There are very few individual scenes, and as much as Enjolras denies being the de facto leader of Les Amis, his is the most recognised face. He cannot help but take pleasure as how affronted his parents are going to be, and it is for a good cause.

They do the front cover last. Grantaire has painted a banner ‘ _Les Amis & Friends Nude Calendar 2015_’ and it’s more than large enough for them all to fit behind it decently. Even so it takes many attempts and even though they are all wearing underwear – the sign is large enough to cover all of them from thigh to chest (even if Cosette needs a piggyback from Marius to be visible) – the press of skin is uncomfortable to Enjolras. He’s been placed next to Grantaire again, which makes it doubly so.

It’s a large sign, but they all need to squeeze together to fit behind it.

Someone cracks out a bottle of champagne when Toussaint hands over the memory stick containing all of their completed photographs to Courfeyrac, and it feels like an achievement, all of them wrapped up in dressing gowns and drinking cheap champagne out of chipped mugs and in Jehan’s case, straight from the bottle.

The completed calendars arrive in September. Plenty of time for them to gather interest and then restock if need be for a Christmas rush. Enjolras doubted that there would be any great demand for them, but it had been decided that they should accommodate for one. They settled on two hundred. There are four boxes of them piled up in the backroom of the Musain, having been carted there by Courfeyrac, and one solitary copy had been rescued from its plastic packaging and left open for them to peruse at the end of the meeting.

It was open on September, Joly, for all of his discomfort during the shooting, was positively jumping for joy when the boxes were unveiled and had seized the opportunity to display the calendar. Bossuet created the necessary drumroll when Joly flicked the page.

September was one of the few pages to contain Joly, bedecked in an extremely flattering umpire’s outfit – Joly blushed and ducked down but Bossuet and Musichetta pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks until he continued – standing between Bahorel and Feuilly. Who in the spirit of the calendar were both nude. They’d been running out of props by this point, so the makeshift boxing ring that normally lived in Bahorel’s garage had been hastily resurrected. The simple narrative of the picture was evident, and Joly was raising one of Bahorel’s gloved hands up in victory.

In fact the only thing keeping Bahorel and Feuilly decent was the careful location of their boxing gloved hands. Not that the image was all that decent, Bahorel had insisted on getting into character and had done a round with Grantaire before the shot, and in the photography his chest was gleaming with sweat. He’d also insisted on not having any cover up over his top surgery scars, pointing out the importance of representation. Enjolras had been proud of him in the moment, and hadn’t refrained from telling him, while now the photo was revealed both Cosette and Combeferre held out their hands for a high five.

After the whoops and cheers have gone around, and people have been very unsubtle in flicking their eyes from the picture to Bahorel and Feuilly themselves, Joly flicks back to the front of the calendar for an official run through.

The photos are tasteful and artful, even if some of them make the majority gathered around the small table laugh. Some of them even make them coo. Courfeyrac, without fail, fans himself every time the page is turned and more of his friends are revealed unto him. Even at his own image. Jehan and Cosette both cuffed him over the head after the fifth page.

It’s not that Enjolras was uninterested, he was bent over looking at the calendar and smiling along with his friends and admiring the work done on the photography and composition. It’s just that these are his friends; their state of undress means little to him other than a slight hint of prudish embarrassment, driven into him by conservative family values that he strives to ignore.

At least, until they turn to July.

His birthday is in July, and Courfeyrac and Feuilly, who organised the technical elements of layout and printing, both knew that.

It‘s a dark image, with none of the intricate worked background of other photos, just the back wall of Bahorel’s garage. Highlighted against the darkness are Bossuet, Feuilly, Jehan and Cosette, all draped in French flags but front and centre and standing is Grantaire.

“I wanted to have a bottle of champagne to cover the necessitates, but apparently that ‘wouldn’t have been appropriate’.”

Grantaire makes the inverted commas around the words, but Combeferre digs him in the ribs good naturedly and Grantaire barks out in laughter. There are clearly no hard feelings there.

It seems hardly any more appropriate to have Grantaire holding a copy of the monthly Les Amis newsletter, the one with Enjolras’ face emblazoned under the name.

For some reason that is more embarrassing than Enjolras’ own nudity in the calendar, and his face flushes. Grantaire’s jovial attitude falls flat.

Joly turned the page. Enjolras knew that this was coming, but still steeled his expression once they turned from November.

“Happy birthday to me,” Grantaire said under his breath, but still Enjolras heard. Objectively he didn’t know that Grantaire had been a Christmas baby, but that isn’t what captured his attention.

Vanity or not, there was something alarming about seeing quite so much of himself publicly. He was glad that the photographic version of himself was able to pull off both modest and haughty, even with a large, scarlet bow covering his crotch. He’d been mortified, even after giving his full agreement and consent to the parody image. He doesn’t know how he kept the blush off his face when Toussaint took the photograph, his face is flaming now. 

The calendar sells. They each keep a copy and Toussaint is sent a limited edition signed version of the official calendar with gratitude, and a card of thanks with fifty euros slipped in as an early Christmas gift.

They have to restock the calendar by October, and are taking orders for Christmas before the Halloween spectacle has passed by. Courfeyrac crows in his accuracy and he and Combeferre occasionally share smirks over the success of their idea.

Les Amis have enough money to self-publish their newsletter fortnightly.

Enjolras already has a calendar for the coming year, so his own copy is kept by his desk unopened. That is until his latest text analysis drives him to distraction, and he took up the calendar and flicked it to January; to Combeferre, Courfeyrac and himself. Apart from the fact they’re nearly naked and surrounded by ‘new year’ memorabilia they look just like themselves having fun. It’s a nice picture, and he’s tempted to artfully crop it and have it framed.

He doesn’t. He just leaves the calendar open.

After one meeting, where Grantaire had done complained about their inability to affect change and had laughed in Enjolras’ indignant face, after Enjolras had thrown down his satchel and slammed the kettle onto boil, he had flicked the calendar open to June. Grantaire, not the most confident about his body, despite his affectations, had agreed to do this for them; surely he must believe in something they were doing. It stayed on that page.

The vibe turned towards Christmas, and it was December. The calendars were selling well, at their respective universities and workplaces, as well as by mutual friends, and Enjolras worried- political opponents. Christmas lights were springing into existence, the hint of snow was in the air and there were Christmas trees, a very unfortunate Christmas tree in Paris’ case.

The Café Musain had bought a copy of the calendar, one of the first that they’d managed to sell, and now whenever Enjolras wants an ethically sourced hot chocolate he is faced with his own stern face atop his own naked body on a background of thankfully, faux snow.

It got both embarrassing and tedious after a while. But Enjolras had agreed to the calendar, to the photo, and it isn’t to him to ask them to take it down. They still hold meetings there, overlooked by two Enjolras’.

Grantaire once described it as torture.

Enjolras thought that was unfair, and almost points out that he didn’t have a problem with the pages of the calendar were _Grantaire_ is nearly naked. And, _oh_ , let it never be said that Enjolras isn’t self-aware.

Technically they’re supposed to be in a meeting, but it’s unofficially recognised that the last meeting of December is a party in all but name. They’ve raised enough for the calendar that they’ve not only increased their publication rota, but they’ve also tripled their bail money. Christmas is in the air, they have earned their rest and their jollity.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre have snuck out to get the traditional surprise sack of Secret Santa gifts from Courfeyrac’s car that they’ve all been working on this year.  Enjolras has given Bossuet a new case for his phone, one that claims to be unbreakable, and he knows for a fact that Feuilly has knitted him something, because he asked for Enjolras’ measurements, and his fingers have been working busily across red yarn for the past few meetings.

In the anticipatory lull of Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s absence, Enjolras dropped down next to Grantaire. Grantaire looks up at him from where he’d been pulling ever stranger faces across at Éponine and Feuilly. He looked startled, but pleased, as though he couldn’t quite believe that Enjolras had chosen to sit with him. And that can’t do, even disliking Grantaire’s vices he’s always liked his company, likes him even more now that he’s understood himself.

“There’s no mistletoe, which is a traditional way to broach the topic regarding what I want to do, but I believe that my feelings have finally come into alignment with yours.”

Grantaire is intelligent and Grantaire knows what he’s implying. Enjolras can read it in the widening of his eyes, and the way that his mouth starts to fall open, whether anticipatory or out of sheer disbelief, Enjolras can’t quite tell.

There is more that Enjolras wants to say but the temptation to just lean forward, and let his actions speak for him is great. Grantaire’s eyes close when Enjolras leans in, and Enjolras keeps Grantaire’s face in focus until he too closed his eyes and revelled in the kiss.

For a moment all was silent, a pin drop could have been heard across the back room of the Musain. Enjolras had forgotten that they were technically in a not-meeting, that all of their mutual friends were surrounding them, that this could be a terrible idea, for the momentarily press of Grantaire’s lips.

In the silence and stillness that all came rushing back.

And then Grantaire kissed him back.

This is perhaps something that they should have spoken about, this could be misconstrued. Enjolras had not even been sure of his own emotions until weeks ago, how could he think to know Grantaire’s? Or for Grantaire to know his own.

The kiss is broken only far enough for Grantaire to breathe something against his lips; he doesn’t even open his eyes, although Enjolras does. He can see Grantaire’s smile and his blush trickling into the port-wine stain of his neck.

“To me you are perfect.”

That Enjolras vaguely recognised the line made him want to bite away his smile, it doesn’t appear that anything has been misinterpreted. He wanted to kiss Grantaire again, and he would have done, was just leaning in to his smile when, finally, the silence beyond the two of them, was broken.

“It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Grantaire breaks away from Enjolras hands, and Enjolras isn’t even sure when he reached out and clasped Grantaire’s arms. It must have been to balance as he lent forward, to kiss him. The glare the he throws in the direction of Joly and Bossuet is positively vile, and Joly cackles, clapping his hands while Bossuet makes puppy eyes in their direction.

“Shut up you two, you’re ruining the moment. I’m getting myself a boyfriend here.”

Enjolras lent back in his chair, a chuckle bubbling out within him. This had gone far faster than he’d expected.

“Are you? That’s a bit presumptuous.”

It was too soon to tease, as soon as he said it he knew, and Grantaire’s face fell, so Enjolras quickly rectified.

“I thought that’s what _I_ was getting for Christmas.”

This kiss is softer than the first, and Enjolras can finally feel the blush creep up his face, for it had been Grantaire who lent forward, the fingertips of one hand to his cheek, and pressing a soft, close-lipped kiss to his lips.

After he pulled away Enjolras was seized with the urge to bite his lip and look away, or possibly to giggle. But he had a reputation to maintain, even as he laced his fingers into Grantaire’s.

“So this is actually happening now?”

Grantaire still sounded quiet, with less easy confidence than Enjolras was used to, but he pressed Enjolras’ hand in reassurance.

“Yes.”

Enjolras’ grin was pulling at his cheeks, even as his thumb rubbed patterns across the back of Grantaire’s hand.

The bell above the shop tinkled, to announce the arrival Courfeyrac and Combeferre, accompanied by a massive sack. Courfeyrac had found a beard and a fluffy red hat in his absence.

Enjolras gave Grantaire’s calloused hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and it seems so very natural to touch Grantaire like this. As thought it had been happening for days, weeks, as opposed to merely minutes.

The sack was dumped on the counter – Houcheloup had long since given up on reprimanding the nice students and activist types who tipped generously when they could afford it, telling them to treat the café like their home- the gifts almost directly under the copy of the calendar.

Enjolras’ eyes were drawn to himself as he stood up, it’s very narcissistic, but then he notes that even as Grantaire takes a swig from his drink – just coke today- that his eyes too are locked on the picture of Enjolras on the wall.

Now that Enjolras is entertaining ideas regarding Grantaire, and so far they appear to have gone well, he considers another course of action.

Grantaire starts when Enjolras lent down, putting his mouth to the shell of Grantaire’s ear.

“I’ve still got the bow.”

Grantaire choked back on his drink.

Enjolras laughed, delighted with himself and with the reaction that he’d managed to provoke and pressed a kiss to Grantaire’s forehead, because he could do that now, that was possible. They were possible.

Their friends were all beaming at them, especially Courfeyrac, who was physically biting back his ‘whoop’ of glee beneath his newly found beard, and Enjolras couldn’t help his own smile reflected back at them. He could see Grantaire out of his peripheral vision, and he was giving the thumbs up to the room, with a ridiculously endearing smile on his face.

“So, the presents are here, although you might have seen that I’ve got lucky already,” there was a good natured groan, and Grantaire covered his face out of the corner of Enjolras’ eye, but he pressed on, “so happy holidays everyone.”

He had the inkling that they would be.

**Author's Note:**

> For those unaware, twelve West End productions, including Les Misérables took part in a nude charity calendar, google West End Bares Calendar 2015. Les Mis is July and involves a number of the cast, including the current Grantaire (Christian Edwards) Joly (Jeremy Batt) and Cosette (Emilie Fleming). Happy Christmas.
> 
> I can also be found on my fanfic tumblr, [phantaire](phantaire.tumblr.com).
> 
> Happy Holidays.


End file.
